


Wormhole

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [82]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Johnlock Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 10:32:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5582299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>wormhole: noun: WERM-hohl: a hypothetical structure of space-time envisioned as a long thin tunnel connecting points that are separated in space and time</p><p>If you associate wormhole with quantum physics and sci-fi, you'll probably be surprised to learn that the word has been around since Shakespeare's day—although, admittedly, he used it more literally than most modern writers. To Shakespeare, a wormhole was simply a hole made by a worm, a more down-to-earth sense which is still used today. But even the Bard subtly linked wormholes to the passage of time; for example, in The Rape of Lucrece, he notes time's destructive power "to fill with worm-holes stately monuments." To modern astrophysicists, a wormhole isn't a tunnel wrought by a slimy invertebrate but a theoretical tunnel between two black holes or other points in space-time, providing a shortcut between its end points.</p><p>from Merriam-Webster.com</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wormhole

"Sherlock?"  
.  
.  
.  
.  
"Sher-LOCK?!"  
.  
.  
.  
.  
"SHER-damn."

John struggled up the stairs with the shopping, which primarily consisted of a dozen cans of jelled cranberry sauce, two bottles of nail polish remover, a frozen turkey, four heads of cabbage(had to be organic) and 3 jars of pickles, all garlic dill. And milk, naturally.

He managed to get the bags to the kitchen table without breaking anything by sheer luck. 

"Didn't you hear me-" John turned to throttle his lazy git of a flatmate when he stopped and sighed. Sometimes he wondered if Sherlock's Mind Palace was actually, in fact, a wormhole to some other dimension.

"Sherrrrrrr-lock-" He got a chair from the kitchen and sat next to the couch where the detective was contemplating some case or what colour to paint the loo, or how to remove that big purple stain from the kitchen table...could be anything. John normally didn't get to just sit and observe his friend, yes, once in a while he'd steal a glance or two while he was working on the microscope, but they were definitely furtive peeks, not long enough to really take note of his ridiculous lashes, long, elegant fingers and those lips...god-

"John? Finally-what?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why are you sitting there?"

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"What it would be like to kiss you."

"Oh."

"Have you ever given it much thought?"

"Uhm, yes, I uhm have a penthouse in my Mind Palace, where I spend time practicing-"

"Oh. Have you ever kissed anyone?"

"There was a red haired girl when I was 5, but, I've been assured that doesn't count."

"Would you mind, if, that is, are you at all interested, damn, Sherlock, may I kiss you?"

"You would want to?"

"Very much."

"Should I sit up? Are there rules? Where do hands-"

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"It's different than I thought it would be."

"Was it okay?"

"Can we do it one more time, just for uhm, science?"


End file.
